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  “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s high as a kite. He’s loud and rambunctious, but he’s harmless. His tips are lovely, though, darling.” She continued to pop her gum, and cocked her hip to the side.

  “Are y’all hiring?” Vita asked as she nudged Zya underneath the table.

  “Oh yeah, we’re always hiring. These young girls can’t always keep up with the crowd, ya know? Why? You looking for a job?” she asked, directing her question to Vita.

  “Oh no, honey, I don’t do regular jobs,” she said vainly. “The nine to five thing ain’t for me, but my girl Zya needs a job.”

  The waitress laughed and said, “I hear you, but trust me, sweetheart, this ain’t no regular gig.” She focused her attention on Zya. “You looking for work?”

  Before Zya could answer the question, a handsome young Italian guy in casual black slacks and a black Armani shirt walked up to their table.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” he said before turning to the waitress. “Marcella, you know Vinnie will only let you serve him. It’s not good business to make him wait.”

  “Meechi, I was just talking to these ladies here.” She pointed to Zya. “This one’s looking for a job.”

  He looked down at Zya and said, “What’s your name?”

  “Zya,” she responded.

  “Your name reflects your beauty,” he said. Vita smiled and bumped Zya underneath the table.

  Zya smiled and replied, “Thank you.”

  “That smile will make you a million bucks in this restaurant. Have you ever waited tables?”

  “No.”

  “You will learn quickly, I hope. You start tonight. Be here at 7:00 P.M. Don’t be late.” He began to walk away from the table then turned back and yelled, “Marcella, their lunch is on me. Before she leaves, give her a uniform and hurry up and get to Vinnie!”

  Marcella looked down at her with a smile and said, “Congratulations, girlfriend. Meechi likes you, and he doesn’t like anybody.”

  “Was he serious? Did I really get the job? Is he the boss?” Zya asked, surprised at how easily she had gotten the job. She was glad that she had picked that restaurant. She was in the right place at the right time, apparently.

  “Yeah, he and his dad own the place. No offense, but he usually wouldn’t hire a black girl. That’s how I know he likes you.”

  Zya didn’t know if she should be offended, but she honestly didn’t care. As long as I can take his checks to the bank, I’m good.

  Marcella finished taking their orders and made her way to Vinnie’s table.

  “Girl, here’s to your new job that I got you,” Vita said as she beamed a smile and raised her champagne glass in the air. Zya tapped her glass lightly against her friend’s, and with a confident grin, said, “To my new job.”

  Zya stared in the mirror and pulled her long hair up into a high ponytail. She kept adjusting it to get it just right. She was nervous, like she was going on her first date or something. She wanted to look good when she arrived at the restaurant. She didn’t want to give her boss any reason to fire her. She fidgeted with the tight black skirt then turned around to make sure her panty line was concealed. The skirt was so short that she would have to watch how she picked things up. The waitress uniform was far from cute, but Zya wore it like she was wearing high fashion couture. The tiny skirt hugged her hips, and it was sexy, to say the least.

  Her house phone rang, and she rushed to answer it. It was already 6:30, and she wasn’t even finished getting dressed yet.

  “Hello?” she said as she put one earring in her free ear. She switched the phone to the other side and held it with her head and shoulder as she inserted the other earring.

  “You ready? I’m outside,” Vita said cheerfully. Vita had agreed to drop Zya off at work so that she didn’t have to take the subway.

  “Yeah, girl. I’m on my way down.” She hung up the phone and went into her room to grab her short apron and put on her black Jimmy Choos. She walked out the door and tied her apron around her waist as she headed to Vita’s car.

  “You look cute!” Vita yelled as she watched Zya strut to the car. Zya was only five feet five, but she had the stride and the looks of a runway model.

  “Whatever. You got jokes,” Zya said as she opened the door and got in.

  Vita laughed and sped away from the curb, driving recklessly, like all New Yorkers seemed to do. “No, I’m serious. You gon’ get hella tips tonight,” she said as she chuckled lightly.

  It took Vita about fifteen minutes flat to get to the restaurant, and Zya hopped out of the car and rushed inside.

  “You want me to pick you up?” Vita yelled right as Zya opened the door.

  Zya nodded her head and replied, “Yeah. The place closes at two.”

  Vita drove off, and Zya entered the restaurant. The place was packed. There were people at every table. The three fireplaces around the room were roaring, and the place was lively with laughter and conversation. The bar area was jam-packed, too, and she noticed Marcella maneuvering in and out of the dining area with large trays in her hands. The place was definitely busy, and Zya scanned the room, looking for her boss.

  “You ready to work?” someone behind her asked. She turned around and saw her boss staring her up and down.

  “Yeah, Mr. . . .” she began, not knowing exactly what to call him.

  “The Mister is for my father. I’m Di’Meechi Castello. Call me Meechi.”

  An older man walked in the door and stopped when he saw Zya. He looked at his son and said, “Who do we have here?” There was a disapproving tone in his voice, and Zya grew nervous in his presence.

  “This is Zya, Pop. She’s our new waitress.”

  “Hello, Mr. Castello,” she said sweetly. She gave him a smile and reached out her hand, knowing that she could win him over with her charm. Mr. Castello let her hand linger in the air for a few seconds before he finally returned her friendly smile. He took her hand and kissed it then patted his son on the back.

  “Gorgeous girl, Meechi. Good work. Why are you still standing here, sweetheart? I have a restaurant to run,” he said as he moved into the dining area and shook hands with a couple of people sitting around the place.

  Marcella noticed Zya and came over to her. “Hey, Zya, right?” Zya nodded her head. “Let me show you where everything is at.” She popped her gum as she bobbed and weaved around the tables. Zya struggled to move throughout the place without bumping into anybody.

  “Excuse me. I’m sorry,” she kept repeating as she followed Marcella to the back kitchen. They went through two double doors and entered the busy kitchen. Marcella took her to the back, where an office was located.

  “This is the rotation of the tables,” she said, pointing to a seating chart on the board. “This is your section. It is the section you will wait every night, unless somebody requests you from my section or from Liz’s section.” At that moment, an attractive white girl with sandy blonde hair walked into the office, followed by a white guy, who waddled into the room hugging a broom.

  “Liz, this is Zya. Zya, this is Liz,” Marcella introduced.

  “We got a new girl?” Liz asked.

  “Yeah, the other one couldn’t cut it. Meechi hired Zya earlier today.”

  “The tips are good,” Liz assured with a smile. She winked at Zya and said, “Nice to meet you.” She then threw on her apron and rushed out.

  “Hi, Zya!” The white kid spoke loudly, but kept his head turned down toward the floor.

  “Jesus, Buggy, not so loud,” Marcella said harshly. She turned to Zya and said, “He’s a little slower than most. He’s good for nothing, but somehow he got a job here.”

  Zya smiled, not wanting to be mean to him. It was obvious that he was slow. “Hi, Buggy,” she said as she held out her hand for him to shake it.

  He shook her hand wildly and said, “Zya, you’re pretty.”

  Zya laughed and replied, “Buggy, you are very handsome yourself.”

  “We better get out there,” M
arcella said as she bumped past Buggy. Zya waved to Buggy then followed Marcella out of the room.

  “All you do is take the orders and be hospitable, and you will be fine.” They both exited the office, walked through the kitchen, and made their way onto the floor. Zya looked at her section. She had at least fifteen tables, and she took a deep breath before she made her way to the first one.

  “Hi, I’m Zya, and I will be your waitress this evening. Can I start you gentlemen out with something to drink?” she asked nicely as she placed menus in front of each person.

  “Yes. What’s your house champagne?” a stone-faced Italian man asked. Zya grew a blank expression on her face as she picked up one of the menus.

  “Umm, let me see.” She flipped through the menu, fumbling as she tried to find the page where the drinks were located. “Hold on,” she said as she struggled to find the page.

  The man grew impatient and said, “Forget it! Just bring us out two bottles of your finest champagne. Ask one of the waitresses who actually know what they are doing.”

  Zya nodded her head and then went to the bar to fill the order.

  Her shift was full of rude customers. She messed up orders and spilled drinks all night. It seemed like the cook would take forever to prepare her customers’ meals, but Liz and Marcella’s orders were completed quickly. She could feel Meechi and Mr. Castello watching her. This shit ain’t for me, she thought as she delivered plate after plate of food. She had always thought waitresses didn’t do anything, but she quickly realized that she was wrong. She had cussed a couple of waitresses out herself for taking too long with her own meal, and now she regretted it because she was receiving that same treatment. She tried to apologize to her tables for her inexperience, but it seemed like they wouldn’t cut her a break. They reported her to the managers and were rude to her. She didn’t think she would keep the job for long. If she didn’t quit, they were sure to fire her. She knew that she wasn’t cut out for it. She leaned against the bar, surprised by the fact that she had a free minute.

  “You okay?” Liz came up and asked her as she gave a drink order to the bartender.

  “Yeah, I guess. This is just a lot of work. I keep messing up orders and delivering cold food.” Zya sighed.

  “You’re doing better than I did my first day. Don’t worry about it. You’ll get the hang of it. You just have to move quick, that’s all. And don’t let these Italian pricks treat you like shit. I will tell them off in a minute if they step too far out of line,” she said as she walked away.

  Zya tried to make the best of the rest of her night. The only thing that made the job bearable was the tips. Each table left at least $25, and that was good for the poor service they had received. She watched as Marcella and Liz picked up $100 and $200 tips, but she couldn’t complain. It was her first night, and she knew she hadn’t done a great job.

  Her feet were killing her, and all she really wanted to do was go home. She couldn’t wait to crawl into her bed. She looked at the clock that hung behind the bar and saw that it was a half-hour until closing. If she had money, she would have quit after the first hour or so, but then again, if she had money, she wouldn’t have to wait tables to get by. Even though she didn’t really like the job, she couldn’t quit, because she needed the money.

  While I’m sitting here talking about quitting, I better hope Meechi doesn’t fire my ass, she thought. The restaurant started to clear out, and she began to clear and clean the tables. She hoped that she didn’t have to wash dishes. I don’t do dishes. I don’t even do my own, so I know I’m not about to bus no suds here. She continued to clear the tables, and for the first time all night, she noticed the black porcelain boxes that sat on each table. They looked like centerpieces, and she didn’t know if she was supposed to send them to be washed or leave them. She picked it up and stopped Marcella as she walked by.

  “Hey, do I take these to the kitchen?”

  “No, those stay on the tables. That’s just a little bit of candy. Meechi doesn’t mind if we take a bit either. Meechi lets the customers sample it before they spend their hard earned money on it. Go ahead, help yourself.” She hurried off into the kitchen, leaving Zya in the dining room alone.

  Zya removed the lid, and when she saw the powder-white substance, she instantly knew what it was. Her jaw dropped, and she looked around. It felt like she had discovered something that had been a secret.

  Damn, they got blow just lying out in the middle of the tables. Once she really thought about it, she realized that most of the customers had been acting strange. She had even witnessed a couple people dipping into the boxes, but she had no idea they had been getting high.

  She looked around the restaurant. Fuck did I get myself into? she thought as she examined the drug. She looked at the cocaine closely and saw that it was poor quality. It was some bullshit that had been stepped on a couple times. She had been around the block enough times to know a good product when she saw it, and the white stuff that was on the table wasn’t it. She shook her head and placed the centerpiece back in the middle of the table.

  Meechi came behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, not knowing that he had sneaked up on her. He squeezed gently and said, “Go home. You’ve had a hard first day.”

  Zya stepped out of his grasp and walked around the table to finish wiping it down. “Sorry if I messed up,” she said.

  “You did fine. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Zya took the dishes to the kitchen then waved to Liz and Marcella before leaving. Vita sat parked on the curb, waiting to pick Zya up, just as she had promised.

  “How was it?” Vita asked as Zya stepped into the car. Zya sighed and took off her heels. She shook her head from side to side and replied, “Some bullshit. The only thing that got me going back is the tips. Some rich-ass Italians be eating in that restaurant. Mostly all my tables left me twenty-five dollar tips.”

  “Damn, twenty-five dollars! You lucky you ain’t surviving off my tips. I be leaving chicks like a dollar, if that.” They both laughed out loud as they rode down the city streets.

  “For real . . . but that restaurant is like a front or something,” Zya began to explain.

  “Why you say that?”

  “It got to be. Right before I got off, I found cocaine sitting on all the tables in these little black boxes. They got coke just lying in the middle of the table like it’s legal. People were getting high all night.”

  Vita looked at Zya like she was crazy, and yelled, “That shit was blow! I thought that shit was some kind of seasoning.” Zya burst into laughter. “Z, that shit ain’t funny. I ate so much of that shit earlier at lunch! No wonder I’ve been feeling weird all day.”

  Zya couldn’t help but to laugh. The look on Vita’s face was priceless. After she noticed the worried look on Vita’s face, she stopped laughing. She knew that it was a sensitive subject.

  “You’ll be all right. As many niggas be snorting that shit . . . ain’t nothing happened to them yet. One time ain’t gon’ kill you.”

  “Still, Zya, you know I don’t fuck with that shit,” Vita argued. Her mom had died when she was in the ninth grade from some bad coke. A small-time drug dealer had been lacing his dope with rat poison. Vita’s mother had gotten hold of some. Vita found her mother face down in the toilet after coming home from school, and had never been able to forget that day. She promised herself she would never fuck with another drug. She even stopped smoking weed because of that, and until now had maintained her promise.

  Zya could see that she had crossed the line by laughing, so she quickly apologized. “Vita, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. You’ll be okay. It really ain’t a big deal.”

  Vita nodded her head and continued to drive. The rest of the distance was silent and awkward. Zya knew that Vita was thinking about her mother. She never knew what to say to comfort Vita on that subject, so she left her friend to her own thoughts.

  When Zya arrived home, she said goodbye to Vita and headed up to her apar
tment. Her mind was racing as she thought about the restaurant.

  I wonder what else is going down in there. If I didn’t know about that, I’m sure there’s a lot of other stuff going on that I’m not aware of. Is it safe to work there? I’m not trying to get caught up in anything I can’t get out of.

  Zya looked at the $500 she had earned from tips. She had waited over twenty tables, and they all had tipped her nicely. She hadn’t earned half of what Liz and Marcella did, but she couldn’t complain.

  If every night is gon’ be like tonight, the money alone is worth going back. I don’t care what goes down in there. I’m all about my money. I’ll walk in and out of there safely every night if I mind my business and do my job.

  Each night after that, Zya went to work and did just that, minded her own business. She got better and better at waiting tables, and soon could keep up with the other girls. She got used to the fast pace of the restaurant and fit in nicely by the end of the first month. Zya, Liz, and Marcella had grown close. They were cool to work with because most of the time they were three of the only women in the entire place. Zya worked the tables like a pro, and soon her tips had gone from $500 a night to $2,000 a night. Mostly everybody that came into the restaurant tipped with $100 bills. The Italian vibe of the restaurant grew on her, and she quickly became a part of the family. Zya was getting paid just to be a pretty face and to be hospitable to the guests. She didn’t have a problem with it.

  Zya walked into work late, and she knew that Meechi wasn’t going to be too happy about it. It was Saturday night, the restaurant’s busiest night, and he liked for everything to run smoothly. Zya rushed past him, and before he could scold her, she said, “I already know, Meechie. I’m on it. I’m on it.” She ran into the back office and clocked in before taking her place on the dining room floor. She noticed that Vinnie, one of the more frequent visitors, was sitting at a table in her section.